


war games

by angstyloyalties



Series: once+always [3]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Canon Compliant, Christmas Presents, Gen, Golden Age (Narnia), but also did not want to leave him out, edmund gets a christmas present, i like that he doesn't get one, less mobile, less overtly violent, so he gets one that's a little different from the others
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 18:34:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20878799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angstyloyalties/pseuds/angstyloyalties
Summary: Then, as his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, Edmund realized what it was: a solid gold chess set, pieces and board of two tones.





	war games

CAIR PARAVEL. FALL 1001

The chill that preceded winter had never sat well with Edmund, even in Finchley. The autumn months never lasted and he hadn’t cared for the glaring brightness of the snow, the excessive need to bundle up, or the overly festive decor. The only redeeming parts of the colder months were the Christmas presents. But even the prospects of gifts had turned sour for him since coming to Narnia. This was due, in part, to his uncertainty in what to get his siblings for the upcoming holiday. They wanted for nothing in Cair Paravel, and it was difficult to find something he could give that they couldn’t just request themselves. But more than not knowing what to get for the others was the overwhelming thought that gifts of his own were no longer in the cards for him.

Since the day he arrived at Aslan’s camp, Edmund had simply believed his siblings’ gifts had come from Aslan himself. Then, months after their coronation, as the Pevensies were spending a particularly chilly autumn evening indoors, Edmund learned the truth. He had very nearly gave a childish pout in response, the beginnings of which he was certain only Lucy caught. He’d tried to cover up for the slip in his expression, even adding a smile before turning back to the papers in front of him—age old treaties and missives that he had been excited to finally start understanding after their lessons with Jurien—but his focus had been shattered. 

The reality was, if it had been Aslan who excluded him, Edmund would have understood. But instead, it was Father Christmas who had passed him over. Somehow, that made it worse.

Initially, his jealousy had simply been unsettling, but his discomfort grew as he recognized his inability to subdue it altogether. Edmund had a whole kingdom to look after, now—a fact he was constantly aware of—and it would not do to fuss over something as trivial as a gift. In fact, Edmund felt he should be able to forget about the nonsensical things like gifts, particularly one he wasn’t entirely certain he deserved.

Edmund had endeavored to leave behind his days as a traitor. He hated the bothersome, ungrateful, selfish little boy his siblings had known him as, and had spent months crafting a more cautious and dutiful persona for himself, and for Narnia. His determination had resulted in late nights studying and a quieter but firm tone of voice, without overshadowing his quick wit or his more playful nature (though those things did take time to return to him; even now he was wary of his words). The young king hoped to be appropriately deserving of the crown Aslan had placed on his head and of the forgiveness he’d been granted. His siblings and people appeared to have left the past behind them, but he hadn’t forgotten his days with the White Witch. It was part of why the winter chill upset him as much as it did, but it was also part of why he had such trouble with not having a gift. 

It was his own fault, really. Edmund knew he hadn’t received a present because he had not been with his siblings that day. He’d been with the Witch, instead, and  _ that _ had been his own doing, which made his jealousy at his siblings meeting Father Christmas unfounded. An unfit reaction for the king he wanted so desperately to be.

And yet, he still felt gilted. It made focusing on the upcoming holiday difficult, which only pushed him to spend more and more time buried in work that, more often than not, could wait.

A soft thump and gentle late-autumn breeze woke Edmund at his desk in the eastern study. Quickfeather’s latest reports covering the unrest in the western marsh were slightly crumpled beneath the weight of his head as he groaned into a sitting position. He wasn’t sure what time it was, but the shy glow of early morning twilight filtered into the room from the balcony. His eyes adjusted as he looked about, both pleased and disheartened to find that he was the only one in the room. Susan wasn’t going to be happy. 

Suddenly, he caught a glint of something across the room. 

The chaise lounge, where his sisters normally sat when they wanted to finish whatever project they were working on for the evening, was situated alongside a tea table, low enough that one could sit at it while on the floor if they so desired, but still tall enough to be of use from the chaise and other surrounding seating. There had been a number of nights when Edmund had fallen asleep there, instead of at the desk as he had this night. The fabric of the cushioning was more comfortable than the dark oak. 

Nothing was amiss with the furniture itself; rather, something sat atop the table itself. While often used for tea, the table typically also held an arrangement of flowers or some books, depending on who had commandeered the space for the evening. The night before, he remembered the stack of maps Lucy had been sorting through in search of what she called a proper seafarer’s journey.

Now, the maps were gone, and the morning half light caught the shine of metal. It disappeared for a moment, as Edmund drew close enough for his own shadow to fall over it. Then, as his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, Edmund realized what it was: a solid gold chess set, pieces and board of two tones. 

“I apologize for the delay, King Edmund. It has taken some time to obtain a proper gift.”

Edmund turned swiftly, his fingers itching for the sword he did not have at his waist. His brows knitted together until he recognized the twinkling eyes behind the rotund man’s bushy gray-white facial hair.

“Father Christmas?” he asked, curious at the timing. The ground hadn’t even frosted over yet.

The man nodded simply, and Edmund had to shake the disbelief from his mind. Lucy had told him about the jolly man the very afternoon he arrived in Aslan’s camp. Edmund had been just as skeptical, having grown out of such childish tales, but hadn’t said anything of it. There were Talking Beasts and all kinds of magic in Narnia, after all. Besides that, he’d resolved to give Lucy the benefit of the doubt more often—a decision he’d come to while the White Witch’s castle—and if Lucy believe in Father Christmas, then Edmund could, at least, entertain the possibility he did exist.

The man standing in front of him certainly provided decent evidence of that matter. 

Edmund glanced back at the board game and allowed his doubt to dissolve in the shine of the pieces. The entire set was finer than any other he’d seen, there was no denying that, and truth be told, Edmund was excited that it could be his. 

Then, his mind drifted to what the others had received. 

Lucy and her ever open heart. She was as gracious and giving as anyone, and in the months since their coronation, her connection with the Narnians had already grown deeper than his or Peter’s or Susan’s. Lucy was the Narnians’ queen, but she was also their friend. Her dagger was small (and so far, sparingly used), and Edmund still couldn’t imagine seeing her wield it, but that didn’t mean he he held any doubts that she would. Just the same as she would heal the smallest of wounds with her cordial without a blink if so allowed.

Susan was the logical one, three steps ahead of everyone else with a clear view of the larger picture. Already, she was as mindful of the various customs of her people as she was able to read the body language of those in the Throne Room when the four of them held Court. In the months since their coming to Cair Paravel, Susan had already become a master coordinator in the game of wits she had crafted with regards to the various players about the castle, Narnian or otherwise. She knew when to keep her distance and when to take up the offensive. Susan’s horn and her bow and arrows were perfect for her.

And then there was Peter, the hero. The leader. He had always been protective of him and their sisters, but Edmund had seen Peter slipping more and more into the role of guardian since becoming High King, shouldering the whole of Narnia without a second though. His sword and shield had and would continue to serve Peter well in defending those close to him. 

The gifts were well suited to them and the battles they faced. Edmund hadn’t a clue what it meant that his would be a game.

“Peace is hard won and troublesome to keep,” Father Christmas noted, his voice deep and soothing. “But I don’t have to warn you of the White Witch’s reach, do I?” 

Edmund clenched his jaw, but managed the slightest nod. 

“Her influence lingers. Here and in the far corners of the kingdom. I suspect you and your siblings will see your fair share of battle in the coming years of your reign. It may do well for you to prepare.”

“I suspect so, Sir. But…” Edmund paused, grappling with the meaning behind the words. “War is not a game.”

“No, it is not. But wars are not won by strength or faith alone. They require caution and strategy, and it is best to develop those skills in games than to sacrifice the lives of your people.” 

At this, Edmund could only think of what he had told Peter and the girls in Aslan’s camp. That he would not leave the Narnians to suffer, not if he could do something about it. It had been a decision he’d come to long before becoming their king, before the people had become his responsibility— _ their  _ responsibility.

He and his siblings weren’t so different from the golden chess pieces in front of him now. There were two kings and two queens on the board, even if they were on opposite ends of the board, surrounded by their soldiers, their people. 

Suddenly, Edmund felt giddy, proud to have understood what Father Christmas meant. When he looked up to thank him, however, the old man wasn’t there. Frowning, he cast a glance out the window, but found nothing aside from the moonlit sky.

He took it in for a moment. Let his heartbeat slow.

Then, decidedly, Edmund turned his attention back to the table and ran his fingers carefully over the beveled edge of the golden board. Carefully, he took a seat right where he stood—with the shining gold pieces to his left and the matte gold pieces to his right—and Edmund nudged a pawn forward.

**Author's Note:**

> i actually quite like that edmund didn’t get a physical gift. it’s fitting for his character arc, and i appreciate his growth without one. that said, i wanted to give him something, so this happened.
> 
> kudos and comments much appreciated!  
tumblr;; [@angstyloyalties](https://angstyloyalties.tumblr.com)


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